


The four times Jack couldn't cry and the one time he did.

by isumi12



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other, Period-Typical Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-25 23:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20034052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isumi12/pseuds/isumi12
Summary: Jack Kelly was by no means heartless. Any newise could tell you that. Sure he was rough on the outside but he still tucked the littles into bed at night. He still made sure to keep extra money to stock up on medicine. He still went out and sold with a cocky smile on his face and charm in his words every day. He still roughhoused with the boys even though he was 17 and he should be acting like an adult. He still scolded Race for smoking inside the lodging house because "'it's bad fer' da lungs."So no, Jack Kelly was not a heartless boy. He just never cries. He has no problem being open about his emotions but no one has ever seen Jack Kelly cry. Until one day, he did.





	The four times Jack couldn't cry and the one time he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I am back with a short little one-shot of Jack. I got this idea on a whim and I really love it. If anyone has any requests for me to write I would love to write some more. I currently have some ideas floating around but any help and requests are welcomed.  
Please leave kudos and comments they let me know you guys like my work! 
> 
> Also, this story has depictions of alcohol abuse, death, violence, and period-typical racism (more mentions of it but still I thought it warranted a warning) so please PLEASE read with caution.
> 
> Thanks and enjoy!
> 
> -IC

_Jack Kelly was by no means heartless. Any newise could tell you that. Sure he was rough on the outside but he still tucked the littles into bed at night. He still made sure to keep extra money to stock up on medicine. He still went out and sold with a cocky smile on his face and charm in his words every day. He still roughhoused with the boys even though he was 17 and he should be acting like an adult. He still scolded Race for smoking inside the lodging house because "'it's bad fer' da lungs."_

_So no, Jack Kelly was not a heartless boy. He just never cries. He has no problem being open about his emotions but no one has ever seen Jack Kelly cry. Until one day, he did._

1\. 1886

Jacob Sullivan clung onto his baby sister trying to stifle her cries while his mother was throwing up on the side of the boat. Jacob had never seen so many different people in his short life and while his mother had promised him that New York would be beautiful, he didn't think anything could compare to Ireland.

He was too young to understand why they had to leave, but here they were, as miserable as he ever felt. He suddenly heard a blood-curdling scream and he jumped up and clutched the baby tighter. He looked to where his mother and father were standing and was confused as to why he could only see his father on his knees. From where he stood he could see how his father shook and how many passengers went to pat his shoulder or try to calm him. He walked through the growing crowd and tugged on his father's coat, still holding the babe firm in his arms.

"Where's mama?" His father exhaled sharply and picked them both up. "Your mama is in heaven now. She wouldn't want you to cry." Jacob now overcome with a strange sadness immediately nodded. "You're right because **_strong Irish men don't cry_**." He said trying to look strong for his father.

His father with a new hardened look in his eyes nodded sharply.

** _"Yes, strong Irish men don't cry."_ **

That's when Jacob Sullivan became Jack Sullivan

2\. 1889

He quieted Anne's tears while they hid in their room from their father. He was in one of the bad moods he usually gets after drinking too much. Ever since coming to America his father had become different.

There were times he wouldn't see his father all day because he worked in the factory and when he would come back home he would just sit on the couch in their small apartment and just drink whiskey all day until he reeked of the odor. It went from bad to worse when he lost his job. At first, Jack was thrilled that he was home so he could play with him and his sister like when they were younger, but he always yelled at them and if Jack ever spoke back he would box his ears in.

But today, today was the worst.

Jack yelped in pain when his father had smacked him in the face. The small 7-year-old fell to the floor clutching his cheek. But then he started to kick Jack again and again and all Jack could do was lie still and choke his cries of pain because **_"strong Irish men don't cry!"_** his father taunted. And he was right, he wouldn't let himself cry. Not in front of Anne who was already crying watching on in the hallway. Something then snapped in Jack and when the next swing came from his father he pushed it back and with a yelp went dashing down the hall dragging young Anne with him. And there they were now hiding from their father and jumping with every pound at the door.

His mind swirled trying to find a way out. He knew his father, how strong he was and how he could break down the door any second now. He also knew that the window from his bedroom wasn't that high and led straight to an alleyway they can escape to. So he pulled himself up and grabbed a handful of clothes (he only really had three outfits) and a blanket. With Anne in tow, he climbed out the window and ran. Ran as fast as his tiny legs could take him. And the screams from what used to be his home became fainter with every step he took. It was around nighttime that he realized what he had done. He was now alone, a runaway and an Irish one at that. He was young but not naive, he knew that Americans here did not like their kind. But he did not cry. He needed to be strong for Anne.

"Jackie? Are we gonna go home?" She asked softly. He knelt before her and just hugged her because he knew that they could never go home. "We can make a new one. I promise."

"Fo' sure?"

He chuckled sadly at her pronunciation but kept a small smile for her letting her know it was going to be okay.

"Fo' Sure."

That was when Jack Sullivan just became Jack.

3\. 1892

He tried to convince himself that the refuge wasn't so bad. But every ache he felt in his bones, and every cough that came from Anne's small body confirmed why he hated it so much. Almost all the kids were malnourished, so much so they were practically skin and bones. And most were covered with small bruises and burns because Snyder (the spider is what Jack dubbed him and while most of the kids laughed Snyder made sure a couple of whippings put him back in his place.) had a gross fixation on making others feel pain. And while most would assume that the kids who didn't make it was because of Snyder's cruel "games" or the fact that they barely ate most days, most of the kids died from the disease.

The same disease that was eating away at Anne now. Jack tried his best to help his sister but no matter what he did her once bright blue eyes remained dull, her once rosy cheeks were now pale white. All the color was drawn from her face except the blood that trickled from her mouth every so often when she coughed. One night it was awfully cold and Jack tried to wrap her up the best he could but it was no use, she still shivered. "J-j-ack?" he ran to her side and held her hand trying to coo her, "I'm here Anne, dont'cha worry yer' big brother is here," he said trying to comfort her. "Am I go-gonna see m-mommy again?" With that Jack's heart plummeted because he knew very well that she might be.

He couldn't tell her that, no. He just couldn't. "Not yet kiddo. You're gonna be fine. Who else am I gonna annoy all da' time?" He tried to add jokingly and patted her damp auburn hair. She nodded knowingly and touched Jack's cheek softly which Jack leaned into adding a small kiss to her palm. "Don't worry Jack, I'll tell her you say 'hi' ." She tried to smile softly and Jack just looked to the ground not wanting to look at her broken face. "Fo' Sure?" He choked out brokenly. He waited for a response but none came.

He quickly looked back up and saw his baby sister, eyes still open, with a soft smile on her face, but she showed no response. He shook her, desperate. Pleading. "Fo' Sure!?" But it was no use. She was gone. Too soon but still gone. He held her and did the one thing he could do. He screamed. So loud kids from the other bunks came in to try to shush him but the older kids knew this was something that had to play out. He pleaded to a God that he didn't know existed to bring his sister back but he knew he couldn't. He shook as he closed her eyes leaving a small kiss on her forehead. And while he screamed and shook. Not one tear came out from him. He wished for nothing more but for a sob to come from his throat. But none came. Suddenly the kids who were surrounding Jack scurried back into bed when the door burst open.

"Ah! You're the one making all the damn noise? I should have known it was you, Sullivan. How about we teach you a lesson?" And with that Snyder yanked him away from his sister and Jack screamed and thrashed trying to get back to Anne who was now a forgotten lump on the ground. He pleaded and thrashed all up until they reached the door. When he finally was thrown back into the room covered with bruises and cuts everywhere he just laid on the floor. he had no one left. He didn't care about what happened to him anymore. He was sure that when Anne took her last breath, a part of himself died too.

"Hey, are you okay kid? I'm real sorry," he whipped his head around to see who was talking to him and out of the corner of his eye he saw a scrawny boy not much younger than him, who was pushing his weight on his crutch. Jack suddenly felt his breath be taken away but for a different reason. It wasn't because of the boy's sunny blonde hair or because of his soft smile. It was bright blue eyes that even in the dark he could see shining. For a split second he thought that Anne had dusted herself off and got back up, but alas it was not. Still, Jack got up wincing and nodded back to the kind boy. "I'll be okay thanks, names Jack," He put his hand out for the boy to take which the other took and shook wholeheartedly. "Name's Crutchie, it's nice to meet you too."

And that was when Jack became Jack Kelly.

4\. 1897

"Racer! Bo toldja to put out yer' cigar once we's inside and I ain't gonna take the fall for ya again!" Jack said half teasing half-serious while he pushed a whining Race inside, the cigar still hanging from his lips.

"Gee Kelly ya worse than the old man!" He teased back. The only thing that kept him from pouncing on Race was Crutchie's stern yet gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned around and smiled at the young boy. "Ya know how Bo don't like it when you get into fights anymore. You don't want him to pick a different second cause you broke Race's nose do you?" Jack grumbled a bit but sighed, " I guess not, but I still say you'd be better at handling the boys."

Crutchie laughed, "maybe but you'd be better at leading' 'em." Both boys who now considered themselves brothers stayed in a content silence sitting on the couch in the middle of the lodging house, that is till Race broke the silence.

"Nah I honestly think Cowboy's right Crutch, he don't know shit." And with that Crutch rolled his eyes as Jack sprung up striding to Race, "why you little!-" His rant was drowned out by Races frantic screams and laughing trying to get the boys passing by to help while Jack had him in a near headlock giving him a noogie. Most of the boys just laughed and went along their merry way back upstairs after a good day of selling. Jack finally let go of Race with a shove and took his cigar. "Hey, that's ma cigar!" He whined trying to grab it from Jack but it was no use Jack went on his tippy toes and help his hand high up so he couldn't grab it. "Well you'll steal anotha' but when ya do next time ya know not to smoke it inside." he jeered. Jack put it on the high shelf with the other plates they had in the lodging house and he heard Race huff and march upstairs defiantly but defeated.

"See? You ain't so bad as a second" Crutchie said smiling at Jack. "Ya, ya just help make sure the boys are all here, I'll wait here for Bo, I don't know what's takin' so damn long." Crutchie nodded and went down the hall where Jack could here more screaming kids. Jack sat on the couch mentally counting the heads of the kids who would enter the lodging house trying not to worry about Bo. He had been the leader for the newsies for the past five years and was the oldest Newsie at 19. He was the one who found Jack after he escaped the refuge the first time and brought him in with the Newsies. In all sense of the word, he was the big brother he never had. (One could say the father he never had but Jack could never call anyone a father to him. Not after what his father had done to him)

Jack started to panic when he saw how dark it was getting. Bo was over an hour late and the boys were frantic. Jack was beginning to make search parties between him and the older newsies like Crutchie, Race, Specs, and Al but before they could split up Jack heard a knock at the door and ran to open it.

"Bo where in god's name have ya bee-" He stopped as soon as he saw who was at the door. None other than Spot Conlon who looked just as intimidating, with stone clod brown eyes, then he could imagine. "Sorry ta botha ya' Kelly but its important." He said low so no one could hear them. Jack straightened himself and became serious while his mind flooded with panic. he shut the door and they were both standing outside in the hot summer night air. "What da hell ya' doin' here Conlon? This ain't ya territory." Jack said menacingly as possible. Conlon, however, didn't respond with the same aggression but for the first time, his eyes softened. He ignored Jack's comment and carried on,

"We found Bo near a dock in Sheepshead, '_no'_, we think he mighta' gotten into some trouble wit' some of da patr'ns, '_not him to it can't be.'_ We're all really sorry Kelly." Spot searched in his pockets and took out a folded piece of paper, "We found this in his shirt pocket, it said to give it to his second which is you. My condolences Kelly." And with that, he gave Jack one more look full of pity but mostly understanding and left without a sound. Jack felt numb. He knew what he had to do. Bo was gone and he had to carry on without him. His heartfelt broken again and he silently wondered how many times can a heartbreak until it can't be broken anymore. But still, he kept his composure because strong Irish men don't cry. His brain kept repeating to himself. He remembered the letter he held in his hand and read it,

_Dear Jack,_

_Jack if you find this letter I'm sorry but I'm not gonna be here ta' help you and the boys anymore. Please don't grieve me too much, I need you to stay strong for the boys._

_I know you can take care of them when I'm gone. If there was anyone in the world I would pass my mantle down to it's you kid._

_I wish I could have taken you ta' Santa Fe like I said we would but just because I can't doesn't mean you can't._

_I will be with you every day watching over you and the kids to make sure you don't screw 'em up though I don't think you will._

_And one day I'll see you again. That's a promise._

_Till then goodbye kid._

_Your brother, Bo_

Jack folded the letter back up carefully and looked up at the sky sadly, "I'll see you in Santa Fe Bo." And with that he went back to the lodging house to tell the boys the news, feeling as if he aged 10 years in the past three minutes.

And that was the night Jack Kelly became Jack Kelly leader of the Newsies of Manhattan.

+1. 1899

_'JACK!'_ Jack Kelly ran. He ran from Newsie square, he ran past the Bowery, he ran up the fire escape and fell to the ground on his rooftop. His and Crutchie's rooftop. Crutchie.. _'CRUTCHIE!'_ Jack shook his head and slammed his hand so hard on the railing he thought it might bruise. He cursed to the wind. His boys. The newsies he was supposed to protect were out there_ fighting, bleeding, falling thanks to good ole' Captain Jack._ And for what? For a stupid tenth a penny per pape that's why.

For one gold shining moment, he thought their strike might work. He thought that maybe with Davey's help they could corral the boys and get Pulitzer and Hearst to lower their prices. But as quick as it happened was how quick it ended. As soon as Pulitzer called Snyder and his men to raid newsie square and soak his group, Jack knew it was over. To his credit jack tried to get most of the Newsies out of harm's way, he picked up Romeo and threw him out of harms way so he could take the punch Morris mean to give him. With a quick scuffle, he got Morris off of him. Jack knew how to handle a fight. But that's not what it was, no, this was a _massacre_.

All the boys were fighting even Davey took a punch for Les and when he saw that something in him snapped and he ran to the thug and jumped on him, giving Davey a chance to get away from the fight. To hell with it all, they wouldn't hurt Davey, not on his watch. He didn't even want to be here. And with that rage he knocked the thug he was on top of out with two quick punches to the face. He got up and began to run when he heard a cry that he knew he would never be able to un-hear.

"Jack! Help!" He whipped his head and saw Crutchie getting pounded by his poor crutch by Oscar and Morris, Crutch crying out in agony was enough to make Jack sick and to kill those two with his bare hands. But it was the third man who made him freeze in place. Snyder.

The man he had been running from for the past 7 years sent ice fear through his veins. He couldn't move or breathe until he saw Snyder snap cuffs on Crutchie and heard him cry out again, reaching for Jack, did he finally snap out of it and call out, "Crutchie!" but it was too late. He was too late. The last thing he remembered was him running from Snyder and his taunts. And now he was alone. He had lost _everyone_.

It was like losing Anne, he could see Anne in his eyes. His bright blue eyes and he hated it. He hated how he let another person closest to him down too. Taking Crutchie was like a knife to the heart, and now he was bleeding out.

And he did the only thing he could do. He screamed loud and with so much emotion he fell to the floor. He called out to his mother, to Anne, to Bo, to his _brother_. He lost them all. And it was_ his fault._ He put his boys in danger and it was _his fault._ He kept telling himself to stay strong until he realized there was no one left to stay strong for.

And for the first time in his life, he did something he never thought he was able to do. He broke out into the loudest sobs he could muster. Memories from his past coming back to hit him like bricks. It was as if 17 years of heartache and tragedy accumulated into one breakdown. His cheeks were stained with hot tears. _**Strong Irish men may not cry,**_ but they had taken away his brother. The last person in his life he had the strongest bond with was taken from him and all because of him. So damn it all if he sheds a few tears. If anyone is deserving of a breakdown would be him.

_His brother, Crutchie._

That was the night that Jack Kelly, leader of the Newises of lower Manhattan just wanted to be anything but Jack.


End file.
